


Trick or Treat

by WoodlandGoddess1



Series: Domestic Merthur Shenanigans [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Crossdressing Kink, Halloween, M/M, Spit As Lube, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 18:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodlandGoddess1/pseuds/WoodlandGoddess1
Summary: Arthur glanced in the mirror as he clipped on the fake earrings he intended to wear for the remainder of the evening, and looked at his husband standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with arms folded across his chest. Molten desire smouldered in that familiar blue stare.





	Trick or Treat

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the bottom!Arthur Fest: Fall Edition over on Tumblr. 
> 
> I hope I handled the cross-dressing okay, and I look forward to hearing peoples' thoughts.
> 
> As always, this isn't beta'd. Any mistakes are mine. Characters belong to BBC/Shine and I'm just having fun in their sandbox.

Arthur glanced in the mirror as he clipped on the fake earrings he intended to wear for the remainder of the evening, and looked at his husband standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with arms folded across his chest. Molten desire smouldered in that familiar blue stare.

His face warming, Arthur looked away, and had one last look at his own face before deeming his costume finished at last. His makeup was pristine and his wig sat perfectly, the soft blonde curls sitting close to his head and framing his strong features just so. Large pearls dominated the earrings he wore and circles of diamantes glittered around them. Soft white fabric rested against the nape of his neck and plunged down to meet between the strapless silicon cleavage-creators he’d ordered online from Glamour Boutique. He’d ordered the different components of the costume several months previously, his hand shaking, his face hot and his breath stuttering, his thighs pressing close in an attempt to quell the liquid desire pooling between them. His knees had almost buckled beneath him when he’d abandoned the laptop in order to get himself under control and take a moment to calm his breathing. Just the thought of dressing like that had his heart racing, but the thought of surprising Merlin had been even more exquisite. He’d stroked himself to an overwhelming climax while imagining his husband pinning him down and taking him at a punishing pace for keeping the costume a secret for so long.

Arthur rose from the chair in front of his vanity, and admired the scandalous nature of his reflection for a long moment before turning, his cheeks warm with excitement and his red lips curling, his white stilettos silent on the carpet at he strode across the master bedroom. Merlin straightened when he reached him and barred the doorway, his black jumper highlighting the subtle strength in his arm. He’d started working on improving his strength not long after he’d accepted an executive position in the finance department at some impressive multinational company; the name of the multinational escaped him as Merlin stared at him intently, the fine ridges of his cheeks flushing above the trimmed beard that drove Arthur wild so often. Black pupils almost eclipsed the storming blue of his fervent stare. Without even realising his husband was moving, Arthur soon found himself pinned to the doorframe now pressing against his back and swallowed thickly; lashes lengthened with mascara and emphasised with liner fluttered with startled pleasure when pale fingertips glided along his thigh and dragged the soft material of his cocktail dress with them.

Arthur might have let Merlin hike the dress around his hips and fuck him right there and then were it not for the excited footsteps racing down the hallway, giving him strength and determination enough to bat those sinful hands away, smirking as Merlin grumbled a complaint before releasing him. His plush lips found his ear all the same and his husband murmured sinfully, “I’m not finished with that damned dress. I’m glad the kids are spending the night with Gwen tonight because I won’t be holding back. You won’t be able to keep quiet this time.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Damn straight!”

Arthur coughed to cover his laugh and tossed a lingering glance over his shoulder as he slipped away, warm tendrils of anticipation warming his chest and winding through his limbs. His knees wavered beneath him for a moment or two before recovering, allowing him to withstand the exuberance of his children when James and Caroline pounced on him a few moments later. Originally, finding his own costume hadn’t been about seducing Merlin or the hot pool of anticipation growing in his belly, but about comforting and encouraging James when he’d expressed an interest in dressing up as a pirate queen for Halloween. At the tender age of thirteen and still growing, James had been afraid to wear what he wanted when out trick or treating, after seeing one of the other lads in his class get ridiculed for wearing a skirt to show and tell a few months earlier.

“Then I’ll dress up as a beautiful lady,” Arthur had promised firmly, dropping to his knees in front of James and determined to ensure his son would be happy, “and we’ll go out trick or treating together. Your Dad can answer the door to trick or treating kids this time. If someone starts commenting, I’ll give them a stern lecture about respecting other people or break their nose for being an arsehole – whichever happens to come first. But I’m certain we’ll be fine!”

“Okay,” James had answered uncertainly, hesitating, though there had been a spark of enthusiasm written on his face at the time. A few moments of silent contemplation had passed before a resolved expression had sharpened the strong blend of features he’d inherited from his wonderful mother and Arthur. “That doesn’t sound so scary; I think I could do that.”

“Good! We’ll show them then!”

James was now wearing hair extensions to blend in with his natural raven curls and a crimson bandana had been used to keep them out of his face while out on the streets and swashbuckling, his wooden cutlass shimmering with metallic silver and gold paint. Hunith Le Fay, his grandmother and a woman famous for her woodworking, had been all too eager to work on the small project once he and James brought the idea for his costume to her and had started planning immediately, plucking the pencil from behind her ear and locating paper to sketch a few rough designs. She’d then taken his measurements in order to work out the required dimensions for the cutlass. James and Arthur had worked together to paint the cutlass once Hunith had finished carving the blade and sanding the wood down to a smooth surface.

The rest of his costume completed the ensemble.

Arthur couldn’t have been more proud of his determination and bravery, and took a moment to admire the black faux leather bodice that did nothing for shaping and which rested over a classic white tunic fit for a pirate queen and adorned with bell sleeves cinched at the wrist and low shoulders. His bare shoulders looked slender and strong simultaneously, a feat that few managed at his tender age. James was the best pirate queen he’d ever seen and he’d seen his fair share of them at the local LGBT+ club last Halloween.

“You look amazing, James. Truly,” Arthur announced immediately, beaming down at his growing son. He clapped him on the shoulder with an overwhelming sense of pride. “You’re going to be the best pirate queen in town!”

“Thanks!” James looked down at himself for a moment and touched the crimson skirt that completed the costume. Black boots encased his calves. James beamed up at him delightedly, the warm cognac of his stare shining in the harsh lights illuminating the corridor. “You look great as well!”

“You look so pretty, Daddy,” Caroline agreed immediately, her voice awed and her blue stare wide with no small amount of admiration. Arthur melted as soon as he looked down at his daughter: she looked fucking adorable with her cherubic face painted to match her Pikachu costume – the hood of which concealed her blonde locks from view. Caroline had turned five a few weeks ago and was one of the sweetest girls he’d ever encountered since the afternoon he’d befriended Gwen as a boy, who’d grown up to volunteer as a surrogate for himself and Merlin after a long discussion with the man she’d married in her twenties: Lance Knightley, her longstanding sweetheart from school. Unfortunately, the expression of awe and admiration didn’t last long, not when Caroline was so close to getting her hands on a sack filled with sweets from their neighbours throughout the surrounding housing estate. “When are we going? Daddy, can we go now?!”

“Don’t worry; we’re about to get going,” Arthur assured her immediately, his smile softening, and reached for her small hand. He beamed when Caroline latched on immediately, escorting him down the stairs and babbling about the sweets she hoped she’d get before the night was through. James hurried after them at once and Merlin followed far more sedately, his stare burning, promising a long night of retribution for dressing up and not allowing him to have his way, and Arthur couldn’t wait to come home after leaving the children with their mother and stepfather for the night. Goose bumps rose across his skin at the thought. He looked over his shoulder once more. “Hold that thought for later: I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

His steps light and easy, having spent the past few months practicing while Merlin was working, Arthur darted out of the house with their children in tow. James carried the large sack he’d collected from near the front door and fell into step with him quickly, casting a nervous glance around before straightening with determination when Arthur rested an encouraging hand upon his shoulder. He and Arthur exchanged a quick smile and strode down the driveway, James taking several rapid steps to match his long stride and Caroline breaking away, relinquishing his hand and darting ahead before coming to a stop and waiting nearby, bouncing on her feet with a fusion of enthusiasm and impatience.

Caroline loved Halloween more than she loved Christmas.

She loved seeing the countless costumes on display, hearing the music based on frightening things and the spookier decorations suspended in the shops. She loved finding surprises in the sack filled with sweets from their neighbours. She loved the warm burst of compliments from neighbours standing silhouetted in the looming doorway, their homes vibrant with light while darkness pervaded the streets elsewhere.

Honestly, Arthur couldn’t blame her in the least: he’d loved all of those aspects of Halloween when he was a small child. Unfortunately, he’d had far less of a choice in what to wear while trick or treating as a boy, his own father having been a tense and impatient man with sparse tolerance for imagination and even less for cross-dressing. His father had tolerated Morgana dressing as a boy, albeit more than a tad unhappily, but he’d never tolerated even the vaguest prospect of Arthur dressing as a girl and being seen in public dressed like that. He’d have flown into a furious tirade at the thought of him dressed as he was now: like one of the most iconic bombshells in cinematic history, her stage name known all over the world and her white cocktail dress even more so.

Pendragon men didn’t wear dresses or cosmetics.

Pendragon men weren’t effeminate.

Pendragon men were supposed to be hard and masculine – capable of dominating a room less than a moment after walking through the door. It was a lesson drilled into him from childhood and one that had plagued him for the longest time.

Fortunately, Arthur had fallen in love with Merlin Le Fay, a man he’d met while attending university, and had taken his softer surname when the pair married half a decade later. His husband didn’t give a fuck how he dressed as long as he was safe and happy, and Arthur was that and so much more now. He’d never regretted the weight of that wedding ring on his finger for a single moment. He could still remember that long ago morning, the pair of them parched and groggy, having went out clubbing the previous day, and Arthur had crawled out of bed and braved a pounding headache in order to make breakfast and a pot of coffee for the man who’d sucked his brains out through his cock in a cramped bathroom cubicle the night before. Merlin had stumbled out of bed not long after he’d finished cooking, and he’d staggered into the kitchen before falling upon the pot of coffee as though it were heavenly, announcing hoarsely, “We should get married.”

“Okay,” Arthur had answered automatically, his brain as fried as the sausages on his plate and then he’d paused beside the kitchen table as Merlin inhaled the coffee. He’d stood frozen for several moments as his sluggish brain tried to kick itself into gear and realisation had dawned slowly, his hands starting to shake hard enough to threaten a ruined breakfast. He’d swallowed the urge to ask whether he was dreaming and instead he’d managed to say, “Okay, we’ll get married then. Preferably, as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” Merlin had agreed immediately, a delighted grin spreading across his face and brightening the whole room. He’d plucked the plates from his hands then and had set them down on the table before reaching out and gripping his hips tightly, his touch as warm and possessive as usual. Arthur had shivered with familiar pleasure and Merlin had pulled him down upon his lap without an ounce of hesitation. His hands had migrated to his backside as Arthur had wound his arms around his neck automatically, his heart pounding and his hips hitching, his lips parting around a sigh of pleasure as Merlin pressed their brows together. Suddenly, being with Merlin had seemed so much more important than having breakfast. “Okay,” Merlin had repeated breathlessly, his gaze sparkling, “but we’ll have to seal the deal with a kiss first.”

And the rest was history, as the old adage went.

Pushing aside the fond memory, Arthur threw one hundred percent of himself into escorting his vulnerable children around the large housing estate and standing behind them menacingly, cracking his knuckles or folding his muscled arms across the broad span of his chest whenever it seemed like one of the neighbours would offer an unpleasant comment instead of sweets to his brave and determined pirate queen. He wouldn’t stop the neighbours from commenting on his own appearance as long as James and Caroline were out of earshot...but he’d never let someone disparage his children like that. He’d break the nose of a man for daring as much far sooner than that. Arthur supposed that served to highlight the fact that he hadn’t changed much since university, a point in his life when he’d been quick to anger and quicker to rise up in defence of those he loved more than the whole world.

It wasn’t a surprise to notice a lack of children older than twelve out on the street and trick or treating; it was common for parents to tell them that trick or treating was for small children and not for adolescents their age. It was a despicable parental practice in his opinion. Honestly, teenagers were children too and who the fuck gave adults the right to tell them Halloween wasn’t designed for them. Halloween was for whoever wanted to participate and that was that. James and Caroline could go trick or treating into a retirement home for all he cared.

Still...it was a relief that he didn’t have to witness other children harassing James because of what he’d chosen to wear for Halloween. Arthur remembered too well how cruel growing lads could be at that age and he was ashamed to admit he’d been one of them back when he was struggling with who he was and what his father expected from him.

Not that his own personal struggle excused his behaviour in the least.

Surprisingly, several of the local teenage girls were enthusiastic about James and the costume he’d chosen to wear while trick or treating, asking whether he’d pose for a photograph with them. It seemed to make his entire day, and he posed for the photograph eagerly, grinning as Arthur raised the smart phone to take a few shots as James joined the girls dressed as various other powerful ladies – such as Wonder Woman and Buffy, both of whom had been some of his own favourites from when he’d watched television with Gwen while his father was at work.

Arthur almost choked on a fusion of surprise and embarrassment when a girl dressed as Xena stepped forward and asked him to step in for one as well – for being an example of a great father. He blushed vibrantly, but acquiesced after a brief pause and a shared glance with James – who gave him two thumbs up in blatant support and encouragement. Not to mention an enormous grin that reminded him too much of Merlin for him to decline the request. It was strange to pose for a photograph with a bunch of children that weren’t his. It was even stranger to see them admiring the photograph afterward and thanking him profusely, the one dressed as Xena asking whether she could post the photographs on her blog as part of an article about how more men should break gender norms in public to support and encourage their children in dismantling patriarchal values.

But at least the incident made the night memorable.

Smiling, Arthur escorted James and Caroline to the last few houses in their estate before leading them to the next housing estate over. It was wonderful that Gwen and Lance lived so close to them. It meant the children wouldn’t have to travel far to see them and could come home whenever necessary; Caroline sometimes had nightmares and wanted comfort from no one but Merlin on such nights.

But Arthur hoped that wouldn’t be the case tonight.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of Merlin and what waited for him back at the house. He couldn’t help running his hands over his curls to ensure the wig still sat perfectly, and then kicked himself for being ridiculous. He looked fucking hot in this costume and he knew he did: nothing was more exhilarating than an unspoken stamp of approval from Merlin and he’d received that in spades while sitting in front of his vanity, dolling himself up for the evening, and now his husband had been simmering, stewing in his own desire as he waited for Arthur to come home from trick or treating.

Merlin wouldn’t be able to control himself.

His heartbeat quickening, Arthur hastened home after delivering his children to their mother and encouraging them to be on their best behaviour: Merlin would collect them in the morning. The balls of his feet were aching, but he didn’t care much as he darted up his own driveway, his bare thighs brushing against the soft material of his cocktail dress repeatedly, his heels clicking against stone in a manner that made his stomach perform a somersault. His heart tried to punch a hole through his chest as he pressed the doorbell and soon the door was opening, Merlin looming in the illuminated doorway, and a moment of sharp silence passed before Arthur stepped forward to say, “Trick or Treat!”

Merlin reached for him before he’d finished speaking, his strong hand seizing a fistful of his cocktail dress and hauling him through the doorway, earning a startled gasp as he slammed him up against the telephone table with force enough to rattle his spine as the door snapped shut behind him. His stomach performed another somersault as a deep bowl of sweets went toppling, the contents scattering across the wooden floor beneath their feet. Merlin snared him in a searing kiss and Arthur struggled to keep the pace even as his own hands plunged down between them to rip open his belt buckle and shove the waistband of his charcoal trousers down over pale hips. A soft whimper escaped him when Merlin abandoned his mouth to trail burning kisses down his neck before sliding his damned hands beneath his skirt to grip his thighs and heaving, grunting, earning a sharp bark of laughter from Arthur as he clung to Merlin. His husband set him down atop the telephone table. His thighs were shoved wide apart as Merlin latched on to the base of his neck with his damned teeth and the hem of his cocktail dress hiked higher automatically, flashing his skin in a manner that almost went unnoticed.

Arthur choked on a startled cry, his cock hard and aching, the waistband of his satin panties pinning his erection against his stomach as Merlin started grinding against him with sinful determination. His own hands fisted raven hair with rising desperation and Arthur managed to say, “You’re an animal tonight!”

“And whose fault is that?” Merlin caressed the bare skin above his knee and hummed his approval for having waxed in preparation for the evening, earning another whimper of pleasure from Arthur. His possessive hand continued to slide beneath the cocktail dress and soon came upon the silken panties. Merlin froze immediately; his breath stuttered twice and then he shoved the hem of the cocktail dress higher so he could see what dwelled beneath. His chest heaving, Arthur watched Merlin stare at the panties he’d slipped on earlier in the evening, lips parted and his stare glazed with desire. Trembling fingers grazed the satin where it strained across his erection. “Honestly, these look like something a grandmother would wear...but sexier somehow. I’m not even sure how that works.”

“Shut up.” Arthur gasped as his husband seized his hips and pulled him forward abruptly, keeping him balanced upon the precarious edge of the telephone table. One arm wound around him as the other hand slipped between them to tease his erection through the white satin again. Long lashes fluttering, Arthur tipped his head back and luxuriated in the touch. He loved those hands. He’d loved them from the moment he’d met Merlin at university, the unfamiliar man snaring his hips and hauling him forward roughly, preventing him from toppling backwards down the stairs after slipping on a puddle of water he hadn’t noticed at the time. It hadn’t been one of his finer moments. “You fucking love it.”

“I do.”

Neither of them said another word as Merlin pressed more firmly, determinedly, his gaze drifting up to meet his stare as his palm pressed against the building wetness. Heat fanned down his throat as Arthur moaned in appreciation. He braced his hands behind him and raised his hips in encouragement and was rewarded when Merlin snared the high waistband of his panties and peeled them away, slowly, teasing the material against his bare thighs and further south until the panties slipped free of his stilettos at last. His cock twitched with desire as Merlin ran an appreciative gaze over him – from the top of his blonde wig to the wanton spread of his thighs – and then urged him down from the telephone table. Hot and eager lips returned to claim his vulnerable skin as Merlin whirled him around and shoved him forward until he was bent over the telephone table.

Arthur canted his hips automatically, moaning, the heat of his desire spreading as Merlin cupped his backside possessively, squeezing, kneading, trailing kisses down the back of his neck all the while. He could feel a familiar heat pressing against his bollocks as the soft material of those charcoal trousers grazed against his bare backside. He loved it when Merlin went commando: he loved being able to feel him as soon as his trousers were opened. Arthur squirmed infinitesimally, wanting and needing so much more than teases. A sharp slap landed on his backside when he dared to suggest quickening the pace and Arthur couldn’t help the startled burst of laughter even as Merlin did as suggested all the same. A pair of fingers came to caress his lips and Arthur opened up immediately, sighing, sucking them down to the base and soaking them with as much spit as possible. He knew Merlin was too lost in him now to go looking for lubricant and he hadn’t been fucked outside of their bedroom in so long that locating a decent lubricant without darting upstairs would be impossible.

Arthur would rather be fucked almost dry, unwilling to let his husband go for even a moment. Hot anticipation pooled in his stomach as Merlin nudged his thighs further apart with a familiar knee. He’d waited for so long, had been on such good behaviour when getting ready, refusing even to touch himself despite the hot flushes of desire and anticipation coursing through his veins.

Now he was going to be rewarded at last.

Merlin fingered him roughly, his touch hot and demanding, but the press of him inside was so good. Arthur could do nothing but moan and gasp as scarlet flames of desire licked through his veins. His arse was going to be sore in the morning, but he didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t give a fuck as long as Merlin kept touching him like that. He rocked his hips back impatiently, pushing those fingers deeper and demanding more. Merlin was more than willing to keep him satisfied. Arthur lived for this – the give and take between them that had been strong, so strong, since the moment he and Merlin had met on that staircase. Their spark of chemistry, while it hadn’t been companionable immediately, had been instantaneous. It had taken an argument to get them into bed together the first time and Arthur had never regretted the passion with which he’d shoved Merlin against that long ago wall before their clumsy, trembling, furious hands had started tearing through clothes in their growing desperation to reach skin. 

Merlin had shoved him back a step and another before toppling him onto the bed behind him and blanketing him. He’d been possessive and demanding, his mouth twisting around a growl whenever Arthur started goading, and he’d fucked him with abandon. He’d been a beast then. He was less so currently, but Arthur could understand why, though he wished he didn’t. He knew the lack of decent lubricant would make things tricky, each snap of pale hips sharper and rougher. But Merlin made sure to spit in his palm several times now and slick himself up for good measure before pressing the blunt head of his cock against the hot and swollen flesh that gave slowly, so slowly, reluctantly, the familiar length of his husband spreading him open one inch at a time.

His mouth gaped around a silent moan and his lashes fluttered several times before Merlin sank as deep as he could at last. The pair of them trembling, Arthur and Merlin luxuriated in the press of each other as the two of them struggled to grow accustomed to the sharp and relentless presence of that exquisite cock inside him. One pale hand slid around to press between the breasts he’d created from drawing the flesh of his pectorals closer with the cleavage-creator. It was like a brand against his vulnerable skin. Arthur couldn’t help moaning, his frame shivering wantonly, shame and pleasure fighting for dominance within him. Merlin panted uncontrollably, his breath hot against the back of his neck and his arms tight around him. Arthur could feel the cock buried deep inside him pulsing, and knew his husband needed to come desperately, and reached back to clutch at a pale hip.

“Give it to me.” Arthur spoke hoarsely, the words escaping between sharp breaths that made his chest heave within the confines of his cocktail dress. He couldn’t help spreading his thighs a fraction wider and pulling at that pale hip in encouragement. “Come _on_ : fuck me before we get old!”

Merlin gave his backside another sharp slap in punishment before pulling out almost entirely, his actions sharp and full of authority, driving back in a moment later and shutting him up in an instant.

Well.

That might have been an exaggeration.

Arthur could never shut himself up entirely, not when it came to being fucked against the nearest available surface. He was more than accustomed to being eager and demanding, pushy, unhesitant in showing how much he loved being fucked to within an inch of his life. He often had to bite his arm or plant his face in the pillows to prevent the children from hearing him curse and moan and beg to be fucked harder. But there was no need for such restraint now.

Surprisingly, Merlin had been the quiet one in bed from the beginning, the complete opposite from his behaviour the rest of the time. The most he expressed were the odd grunt of exertion or growled compliment.

Not that Arthur was complaining, of course. He would never complain about the relative silence as Merlin fucked him: the silence of his husband while engaging in such activities was the one circumstance where he didn’t need to be concerned that something might be wrong with Merlin. The sound of his harsh breathing and the repeated slap of his hips against his backside was more than enough to keep Arthur satisfied as the pair remained joined together in a frenzied fashion. Arthur pushed back against him eagerly, a moan catching in his throat as Merlin shifted the angle of his thrusts and began tapping that exquisite spot inside him. Merlin knew just how to tap that bundle of nerves to tear him apart at the seams and it happened quickly, Arthur scrabbling at the telephone table with desperate fingers and moaning loudly, his skin flushed and shining with sweat.

His chest heaving, Arthur almost buckled beneath the force of his orgasm. But he didn’t pass out. He slumped over the telephone table and trembled minutely, sighing with bliss as Merlin slowed his pace carefully, grunting, his hand sliding over the small of his back in approval. His veins sang with it. Sweat and cosmetics stained the telephone table as Arthur gave himself to Merlin completely, letting him use him now for his own personal gratification. Each rough slide of that familiar cock inside him burned now. He welcomed the hand gripping his hip possessively, knowing he’d be bruised in the morning, and relishing that knowledge. He loved knowing he carried those marks. He loved knowing he’d helped Merlin feel good in bed.

It was his favourite kind of accomplishment.

Arthur hummed with contentment when the pace of those pale hips stuttered for a moment and then stilled as Merlin toppled from the peak of his pleasure with another low grunt. A familiar heat painted his insides and Arthur reached back automatically, cupping that hip once more and keeping his husband close. His own knees were still trembling and the balls of his feet were aching fiercely, but he welcomed the warm weight of Merlin all the same. Strong arms wrapped around him and gentle hands soothed him lovingly, Merlin murmuring, “I was thinking...”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“Shut up.” Merlin huffed in exhaustion and slapped his backside on principal before embracing him all over again. Arthur glanced over his shoulder to see him blushing, and not just from exertion. He rubbed the pale hip in his grasp without hesitating, wanting to soothe his embarrassment away, wanting him comfortable enough to open up despite his joking nature. Merlin swallowed thickly, leaning down to press his face where his expressions couldn’t be seen. His breath fanned over his heated skin and earned a faint shiver. “I was thinking that...someone special should be there to welcome Santa Clause home this Christmas.”

“Okay,” Arthur agreed breathlessly, his stomach somersaulting despite the activities he’d just engaged in. He squeezed the hip in his grasp just so. Merlin pressed a kiss to the back of his neck in appreciation. His lashes fluttered at the touch and Arthur struggled to focus on his breathing, whispering quickly, “Okay, I’ll start putting a costume together as soon as possible.”

And the rest was history, much to their pleasure.  


End file.
